


Fic: a pair of dull scissors and the yellow light (NC-17)

by tuesdaysgone



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank licks his lips, not sure if the next thing that tumbles out of them will be the desperate "Do that again" that he's feeling with his entire body.  His eyes skitter away from Gerard's, scanning the dim basement mindlessly.  There's a dressmaker's dummy tucked in the corner.  It reminds him of his mother's worktable at home, pins and scraps of fabric and -</p><p>Scissors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: a pair of dull scissors and the yellow light (NC-17)

  
~1800 words, Frank/Gerard, NC-17. Title from Regina Spektor.

"I hate these things," Frank mutters, pulling irritably on a dreadlock that's tickling his forehead. He keeps tugging for a minute, probably because he's high and well, it feels interesting between his fingers. Underneath the tangle of matted hair, his scalp is vaguely itchy. Not as itchy as the couch he's sitting on, a tapestry reject in someone's basement. He doesn't know where they are, just that it's someone's house, and the van's outside, and he's not in it for once. And there's booze upstairs, and Gerard is sprawled out next to him, their knees pressed together. He's chewing on the rim of a red plastic cup, and he cocks his head a little when Frank starts talking, but doesn't answer right away. He does reach out and touch another dreadlock; his fingers brush Frank's neck and they're cold. It feels good, though. Makes the itch go away for a second or two.

"They're getting long. You look like Medusa," Gerard tells him after a minute.

Frank's not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult. Knowing Gerard, it's probably a compliment, but - "They itch," he says, and Gerard's fingers shift, tracing along the edges of the dreads.

"We're crashing here tonight," he says slowly. "You could take a shower." He sounds vaguely confused by the concept, that dirty motherfucker. Gerard probably hasn't seen the inside of a shower stall in weeks. "But I guess you can't." His hands are still exploring Frank's hair, and it feels so good that Frank is practically squirming. Gerard hasn't noticed. Gerard is probably still plotting out some weird snake-haired Frank cartoon in his head.

He's so busy with his exploration that he even puts down his - empty, Frank sees - plastic cup so he can shift closer. He loses his balance a little, tugging too hard at the hair still in his hand, and Frank gasps in a shocked breath. He's got tears in the corners of his eyes, but he's also gone from vaguely turned on to uncomfortably hard in seconds flat. Gerard is pulling back now, humming at him questioningly, fingers soothing the patch of abused scalp.

Frank licks his lips, not sure if the next thing that tumbles out of them will be the desperate "Do that again" that he's feeling with his entire body. His eyes skitter away from Gerard's, scanning the dim basement mindlessly. There's a dressmaker's dummy tucked in the corner. It reminds him of his mother's worktable at home, pins and scraps of fabric and -

Scissors. "Gerard," he blurts. "Look."

Gerard obediently follows his gaze, and spies the dress form. "Cool," he says, getting up to poke curiously at it. "These things are so bizarre. Did you ever think about them coming to life? That would be a rad comic."

"Well, I didn't before!" Frank rubs his palm over his face. "We have to sleep down here, and - " Now he's distracted too. Fucking Gerard. "No, Gee, look. Are there scissors?"

Gerard rummages for a few seconds and then waves a shiny silver pair of fabric scissors triumphantly. He stops and looks from them to Frank. "Are you going to - "

"Gee. Cut my hair?" His voice comes out annoyingly breathy. Gerard's looking at him with the head tilt again.

"Are you sure?"

"There's no mirror, and just - " But Gerard's nodding now, sinking carefully back onto the sofa, cool fingers tilting Frank's head to the side. Frank can feel his breath on his neck.

"Okay. Yeah."

"You're sure?" Gerard asks again. Frank nods, swallowing against the thumb pressed against his throat, and Gerard doesn't wait, just starts snipping at the dreads along Frank's hairline. He's still chattering away at first about dress form robots or whatever, but Frank just sits very still, feeling the tug and release of each clump of hair caught between the scissor blades. Soon Gerard falls silent, too, and the only sound remaining is the metallic snick of the scissors and their breath.

Gerard has to lean in closer when he gets to the back of Frank's head, and he grumbles and pushes himself to a kneeling position; his knee presses hard against the side of Frank's leg. That means his thigh is sort of pressed against Frank's arm, and Frank giggles quietly to himself at the stupid urge to wriggle against him, to see if there's even the vaguest possibility that he's...enjoying this. Then Gerard grasps Frank's shoulder firmly and swings his knee over to straddle Frank's thighs, and Frank shuts up abruptly. If Gerard scoots forward at all, there will be way more than a vague possibility that he'll know Frank's enjoying this. Frank closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Gerard's fingers slip through the newly-shorn hair on the left side of Frank's head, tangling around a few longer pieces and tugging Frank's head to the side to expose the other side of his neck.

"Stop squirming, or I'm gonna poke you," he murmurs, and Frank bites back the "Ditto" that is on the tip of his tongue.

He snips in silence a few more times, cool fingers splaying across Frank's temples. When he gets to the few remaining dreads on the back of Frank's skull, Frank tips his forehead down onto Gerard's shoulder. He can feel Gerard's breath whooshing across his ear. It's faster than normal, and that's enough to snap him out of the trance he's in, reaching to press his lips against the side of Gerard's neck. He can feel the pulse, and that's a lot faster than normal, too.

Gerard pulls back, his hands falling away from Frank's head, and Frank hears the scissors hit the floor with a clank. He looks up, and Gerard's looking at him wide-eyed, red staining the curves of his cheeks. "Are you done?" Frank asks, and when Gerard nods he grabs him by the belt-loops and yanks him forward. Gerard barely catches himself with a hand on either side of Frank's head, but their hips settle together in a way that makes Frank groan and Gerard gasp. "How's it look?" he grits out.

"You look good," Gerard says in a low voice, biting into the pink of his lower lip, and Frank grabs a handful of Gerard's hair, reeling him in and tracing the mark with the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah?" he breathes against Gerard's lips.

"Always do," Gerard answers, hands sliding down Frank's chest to find the hem of his tee shirt. He's starting to lose the startled look, the corner of his mouth quirking a little, and it's more than Frank can stand. He wraps his arms around Gerard, rolling them both so that Gerard's stretched out underneath him on the couch. Gerard's already searching for his mouth again, and Frank crushes their lips together, testing the edges of his crooked grin as Gerard pushes his hands up under Frank's shirt, nails biting the skin of Frank's back. Their cocks are lined up just right, and Frank rolls his hips, laughing into Gerard's mouth at the noises they're both making.

He's so close, and Gerard thrusts one hand down the back of Frank's jeans, pulling his hips closer while wrapping the other around the back of Frank's neck and biting at Frank's jaw. Frank just loses it, hips jerking and vision whiting out, and he doesn't even care that he just came in his pants like a teenager. Gerard's there, touching him, and muttering his name in his ear like it's some new inventive curse word, and Frank just kisses the shit out of him for another thirty seconds or so till he's regained enough coordination to slither down Gerard's body, straddling his thighs and wrestling his stupid bat belt buckle open to get at his cock.

Gerard sucks in a breath, hands slipping and clenching on the tapestry cushions as Frank shoves his jeans and underwear out of the way, licking a stripe up the underside of Gerard's cock with no further warning. Frank looks up his body, from the pale, heaving skin of his belly where his shirt's rucked up to his swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes. He's the picture of shocked, helpless desire, and as Frank watches, breath feathering over Gerard's skin, his head falls back against the pillows.

"Frank," he moans as Frank closes his mouth around the head of his cock again. Frank just hums and goes down farther, working his tongue and fingers around Gerard's cock, falling into a driving rhythm. The earthy, slightly bitter taste of Gerard's skin makes his mouth water, and he laps at the head at the end of each upstroke. Gerard's hips are twitching under his bracing hand, and his hands land on Frank's head. He's not holding Frank down, just running his fingers through the newly-shorn tufts of Frank's hair. His hands are cradling Frank's skull almost sweetly, while filthy words spill from his mouth. Frank groans around the shaft of his cock - if he hadn't come already, he thinks he could just from listening to Gerard's voice break.

The vibration must be what does Gerard in; he pushes weakly at Frank's shoulder, but Frank just sinks down deeper and swallows around him, cleaning him off with a few swipes of his tongue before gently pulling off. He leans his cheek against Gerard's thigh for a moment, just breathing. His eyelashes catch against the soft skin as he blinks his eyes back open. Gerard's scrabbling at Frank's shoulders again, and Frank lets himself be pulled back up to lean chest to chest. Gerard doesn't talk right away, but eventually he breathes out a, "Fuck. Frank...that was - "

"Something you want to do again?" Frank wiggles his eyebrows, and Gerard pokes him in the side.

"Well," Gerard says slowly, "I don't think I'd make a good barber, but - "

"But the rest of it?"

Gerard's fingers feel amazing sliding around the back of his head. "The rest of it, yeah. Wouldn't take too much convincing."

Frank grins and presses a quick kiss to Gerard's chin. "Good. So, when I get back down here after my shower?"

"I'll be here." Gerard grins, almost shyly, and Frank grins back. His chest is still a little fluttery, so he decides to press his luck.

"And if I asked you to come shower with me?"

Gerard's expression says that he knows what Frank's doing, but he just crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head. "Convince me."

Frank raises an eyebrow and grins.

*

Later, Frank rubs the steam off the bathroom mirror so he can comb his fingers through his hair. It still looks crazy, but fuck, it's clean, and he can always buzz it later. "Totally worth it," he says to his reflection.

"What'd you say?" Gerard mumbles from under a towel, and Frank just smirks.

"I said, 'Nice haircut'."


End file.
